


Lessons

by karrahbear



Series: Malec Drabbles [6]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-13 22:25:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10523151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karrahbear/pseuds/karrahbear
Summary: When the Clave asks Alec to teach an "Introduction to Shadowhunting" class at the Shadowhunter Academy for a week, he figures it will be a straight forward assignment. But when students start asking some unexpected questions, Alec ends up teaching his students about a lot more than just what was on his lesson plans.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just a few notes:
> 
> 1\. This is set several years after COHF.
> 
> 2\. I have not read 'Tales from the Shadowhunter Academy', so all the stuff about the Academy in this story is my own and is probably not canon-compliant.
> 
> 3\. This was another piece that got way out of hand. It was never supposed to be this long, but I regret nothing.
> 
> 4\. Un-beta'd. I take full responsibility for all spelling and grammatical errors.

“I have no idea why I let you talk me into this,” Alec said, shuffling the pages in his hands.

Magnus laid his hands over Alec’s, gently stopping his nervous fidgeting. Alec noted absently that Magnus’s fingernails were blue today.

“Because,” the warlock answered, “the Clave asked. And how could we turn down such a historic request? Especially one that came with such hilarious eye-twitching.”

Alec chuckled, feeling his nerves ease. “And constipated frowning.”

Magnus’s grip on his hands tightened as he curled over, laughing. The bright smile across his boyfriend’s face when he finally straightened up was enough to calm the anxiety that had been buzzing in the back of Alec’s head since he woke up.

A bell rang, echoing down the nearly empty hallway of the Shadowhunter’s Academy.

Last month, he and Magnus had both been asked to teach a week of classes at the Academy. Since the decision to allow Downworlders, now respectfully referred to as “Hanyou”, into the school, a few of the younger members of the Clave thought it would be beneficial to allow some more diverse instructors to teach. One of their first attempts at diversification was a week-long seminar event, where the regular instructors were replaced with guest lecturers, most of whom were Hanyou, or significantly involved with the Hanyou communities. 

As the High Warlock of Brooklyn, Magnus was an obvious choice for a guest lecturer, and he’d been asked to take over for Doctor Sutherland, a witty and bright eighty-two year-old woman with a cackle that could peel paint, who taught “Magical Historical Interference” – colloquially known by the students as “Magical Mishaps 101.” Alec himself had never expected to receive an offer to teach, but a couple days after Magnus’s letter arrived, his sister was calling him from the Institute to let him know that he had a letter from the Clave. Apparently, his relationship with Magnus and his involvement with the “Year of Fray” – Alec’s words, not the Clave’s – gave him unique insight into the changing Shadowhunter/Hanyou dynamic and they wanted him to share that sacred knowledge with the youth of tomorrow.

So now he stood, frozen, as he realized that there was an auditorium full of young Shadowhunters who were waiting for him.

“Relax, darling,” Magnus purred, pushing up on his toes to place a kiss on Alec’s cheek. “You’ll do great.”

The warlock gave his hands one last squeeze before spinning around and gliding down the hall. He watched Magnus disappear into a classroom with a flourish before turning towards the double doors that led to the auditorium, where a group of approximately 200 students were waiting for their new “Introduction to Shadowhunting” instructor. Alec took a deep breath, ran a hand down the front of his blue button-up, and then pushed the door open.

Like he’d feared, the room was nearly full. A few empty seats were visible scattered around the room, but ninety-five percent of them had bodies occupying them. Nobody seemed to notice him, though, so he took the steps down to the front of the room and a slightly raised stage-like area. He dropped his messenger bag on a folding table near the corner, probably where the TA usually sat, and then approached the podium in the middle of the room.

By the time he set his notes down in front of him, the background din of voices had disappeared. All four hundred eyes were focused on him. Well, all four hundred and two eyes – it looked like there was a warlock near the back who had an extra set of eyes.

“Uh, hey. Hello,” Alec winced at the brief feedback from the microphone in front of him. “I’m Alec Lightwood, head of the New York Institute.” He paused, trying to figure out how to get down to business. Smooth transitions were never his forte. “So, er, if nobody has any questions…”

A hand shot up in the middle of the room. Alec nodded at the vampire attached to the hand.

“Um, go ahead.”

“How old are you?” the boy asked. Well, maybe he was a boy. It was entirely possible he was Magnus’s age and only looked like he was fourteen.

“I’m twenty-seven.”

Another hand went up, but the Nephilim girl didn’t wait to be called on.

“Aren’t you the youngest Institute Head since, like, ever?”

Alec felt his cheeks warm and knew that under the fluorescent lighting, the students could probably tell he was blushing. But her question dovetailed perfectly into the notes Alec had in front of him on the history of Shadowhunter Institutes, so he confirmed her assertion and then launched into his assigned topic.

* * *

“How did it go?” Magnus asked, lacing his fingers through Alec’s as they strolled across the campus later that afternoon.

“Not too bad,” he said. “The morning session was bit awkward to start with, but once I got going, it was easier. The kids seemed to enjoy it. Or at least they weren’t sleeping through it.”

Magnus hummed softly. “And the afternoon session?”

“They were kind of zombies during the first half-hour, but once their lunches had digested, they seemed to get back into it.”

The warlock squeezed his hand and flashed him a grin. “I knew you’d be great. And I bet half the student body is in love with you already.”

Alec huffed a disbelieving laugh as he looked away.

“How did your class go?”

“Fantastically, Alexander. I think I may just pursue a career in education.”

Alec bumped his shoulder into his boyfriend’s, chuckling.

“But really,” Magnus continued, softer now, less teasing. “I enjoyed it. And the students were wonderful.” He paused. “Mostly.”

“Mostly?”

“Oh you know,” the fading light from the setting sun glinted off the warlock’s rings as he waved his hand distractedly, “There’s always that one student. Gets under everybody’s skin, drives the teacher crazy, but is so darn cute that it makes it hard to be angry.”

“Sounds like you have experience with that, Mags.”

Magnus pressed his free hand to his chest and gave Alec an affronted look. He was about to respond when a passing student waved at them.

“Hi Mr. Lightwood, Mr. Bane,” the girl chirped.

They waved at her as she passed and Alec wondered how she knew Magnus until he noticed a striped tail trailing behind her.

“Don’t stare, Alexander. It’s rude.”

He swung his gaze back to his boyfriend and found Magnus wearing a smug, teasing smile.

“You didn’t seem to mind me staring last night.”

Alec thought the small, choked noise Magnus made and the subsequent pink flush across his cheekbones were priceless.

* * *

The second and third days passed without incident, and that should have put Alec on high alert that there was trouble ahead. Unfortunately, it didn’t.

Halfway through the fourth day, as he was discussing the types of wards and protections applied to an Institute, a student raised their hand.

“…and once the wards are applied – “

Alec paused and nodded at the raised hand.

“Go ahead.”

The student stood up to address him. “Did your boyfriend put up the wards on the New York Institute?”

Alec’s brain came to a sputtering halt. “Er, I’m sorry?”

“Did your boyfriend put up the New York Institute wards?” they repeated before continuing, “You’re dating the High Warlock of Brooklyn, right?” 

The student scratched at the back of their head, mussing their green hair. From the runes on their arms, Alec knew the kid wasn’t a warlock, only a Shadowhunter with counter-culture leanings.

But finally, his brain lurched back into motion and he answered the first question, ignoring the second.

“Yeah, yes. The High Warlock of Brooklyn cast the wards on the New York Institute.”

He expected the student to sit down, but they didn’t.

“And you’re dating him?”

Alec hesitated, and his seeming reluctance to answer the question caused a buzz around the room.

_“…who’s the High Warlock…”_

_“…think the Clave knows?”_

_“…heard they ran off…”_

_“…really hot, but totally…”_

The voices continued to elevate in volume, blending together into a droning hum. He didn’t want to discuss his personal life, but if it would get them to pay attention again, he would.

“Yes.”

For a moment, it seemed no one had heard him. But then the kid with the green hair dropped back into their seat and picked up their pen again. The murmuring died down.

“Really?” a smaller girl in the front asked.

Alec nodded. “Yes. I’m dating the High Warlock of Brooklyn. Now, as I was saying before – “

“What’s his name?” someone called from the back.

“How did you meet?” someone else wondered.

Sighing, Alec lifted his hands, palms out, to stop the conversation. When the room was quiet again, he spoke, hoping he wouldn’t come to regret his next words.

“If you’re really that interested, then I’ll answer some questions at the end of class. Appropriate questions,” he emphasized the word ‘appropriate’ with a frown, “But right now, I’ve got a little more material to cover. So if you want your questions answered, then you’ll have to pay attention and behave.”

When the whole room sat up straighter and remained silent, waiting for him to begin, he took it as their acceptance of his terms and returned to the topic on his notes.

* * *

“They asked about me?” Magnus said, an odd mix of amusement and confusion swirling in his chest.

Alec finished untying his laces and kicked off his boots before he rotated ninety degrees on the sofa and stretched out, head on Magnus’s lap and feet dangling over the arm.

“Well, they asked about us.”

Magnus ran his fingers through Alec’s hair. “What did they want to know?”

“Just the usual stuff, like –“ Alec’s eyes fluttered open as he hissed through his teeth. One of Magnus’s rings had caught in his hair, and while the Shadowhunter would never admit it out loud, Magnus knew that Alec was definitely tender-headed.

“I’m sorry, darling.”

Alec returned to what he was saying while Magnus took a minute to remove his rings and set them on the side table next to his drink.

“They asked the usual stuff about how we met and where we went on our first date, one of them wanted to know how I came out to my family…” his voice trailed off and his eyes drifted closed as the warlock’s hand returned to his head, long fingers sweeping through the dark strands and massaging his scalp.

“And you told them?” Magnus’s voice was soft. 

“ ‘Course,” the young Shadowhunter answered, like it was the most obvious answer in the world. “Why wou – “ he yawned, “wouldn’t I?”

_Because I’m half-demon. A Downworlder. A centuries old warlock who wears makeup and flamboyant clothing, and I have a long, sordid history, more baggage than an airport luggage carousel, and a well-deserved reputation of hedonism. And you’re an Angel. A blinding beacon of innocence and grace. A beautiful and loyal human being with righteous fire flowing through his veins and a heart that loves so fiercely, I sometimes wonder if I ever knew what love was before I met you._

Oblivious to the thoughts in Magnus’s head, Alec yawned again and smiled softly. “I love you, Mags.”

Magnus swallowed around the boulder in his throat before he could answer.

“I love you, too.”

* * *

“And that brings us to –“ Alec pressed a button on his remote and the next slide appeared. “What I affectionately refer to as ‘The Year of Fray.’”

The room chuckled at the photo of Clary and Jace on the slide. It was taken by Simon the previous summer when the group had gone camping one weekend and featured Clary in a t-shirt and shorts, laughing, her arms up as if in triumph. Jace is standing a ways behind her, glaring, in shorts but without a shirt, and the entire right side of his body covered in mud.

“Who’s that with her?” a student asked.

“That’s Jace Wayland. Or Lightwood. Or Herondale.” Alec shrugged. “It depends on the day. But whatever his name is, he’s still my adopted brother and parabatai.”

“He’s cute,” a Seelie girl in front said. “Did you ever have a crush on him?”

Alec was suddenly incredibly grateful for the half-dimmed lights. It helped hide the flush on his neck.

“It was a long time ago,” he answered finally, hoping the vague answer would stall the conversation long enough to get back on track. 

A small hand appeared in the middle of the room. Alec pointed at the kid.

“Yes?”

“Was that when you realized you liked boys?” he asked, so quietly that Alec almost needed to activate his enhanced hearing rune.

The question caught him off-guard. “I think we’re getting off topic,” he answered, a little sharper than he intended. “We should get back to the material.”

He glanced down at his notes even though he knew them inside and out. He’d lived them, after all. When Alec’s eyes finally slid back up, he saw the boy who’d asked the question. He was small and blond, probably one of the youngest students in the room, yet the depth of disappointment and unhappiness on his face gave him a slightly haunted look. Alec’s stomach twisted.

He knew that look. He was intimately familiar with that look because it was the one Alec had seen in the mirror, every single day, for almost a decade. One that had taken a persistent and endlessly patient warlock several months to erase. Even now, it still reappeared once in a while.

“I’m sorry,” Alec told him sincerely. “I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

The boy looked up, eyes wide. They were blue.

Alec knew he had a choice. He could continue his lecture for the last hour of class, or… Or he could get over his own embarrassment and have a real, open discussion with the teens in front of him. He could give them what he never received at their age. When he met the boy’s eyes again, Alec knew that he’d never had a choice; his conscience would never let him live it down if he turned his back on these kids.

He pressed a button on the remote, shutting off the presentation and raising the lights a bit more.

“Okay,” he told them. “If we’re going to have this discussion, I’m not going to do it at a podium and with a microphone. So everyone come join me up here.”

Alec pushed the podium up against the wall and pulled a chair from behind the folding table. When he turned back around, he saw nobody had moved.

“Come on, guys. Turn off your cell phones, or put them on silent, and put them in your bags. Then come have a seat.”

Alec sat down in the chair and watched the group shuffle nervously in their chairs. Finally, a few brave souls from the last row started down the stairs and joined him on the raised platform. They sank to the floor with legs crossed. A few minutes later, all 200 students were crowded together on the floor, shoulders, elbows, and knees all pressed up against one another’s. There was some low grumbling, and the tension was palpable.

“Alright, can everyone hear me?”

The group bobbed their heads.

“Good. I want to tell you a story. My story.” He took a breath, wishing his heart would stop ping-ponging between his breastbone and his spine. “Which I guess, sort of begins with the question that…” his eyes scanned the crowd for the blue-eyed boy, spotting him in the back, “what’s your name?”

“C-Cameron.”

“My story begins with the question that Cameron asked.” He smiled at Cameron. “To answer your question, yes. My crush on Jace was the first time I started to realize that I was different.”

Alec continued to talk, sometimes looking at the faces of the students, but most of the time staring at the back wall while scenes from his past flashed like ghosts across his vision. He told them about realizing that he wasn’t interested in girls, about nodding along as Jace talked about girls, about lying to his sister about having a girlfriend. His voice got lower, rougher, as he recalled the anxiety ridden nights, tossing and turning while he wondered what was wrong with him; and the shame he carried, always smoldering but flaring white hot when he’d catch himself looking at another boy; and the punishment he put himself through, training harder, studying more, always pushing himself to be better, to reach an impossible standard in an attempt to please his parents. He described the anger that developed from being so unhappy all the time; the strain on his relationships with his family and his friends; the sick knot of fear that lived in his gut. His voice cracked as he confessed his dreams of being ‘normal’; as he admitted to taking late night showers so he could cry in secret; as he acknowledged the persistent loneliness that came from pretending to be somebody he wasn’t. Alec spoke of the heartache of thinking that he would never be truly happy, of the pain he channeled into blind devotion to the Clave and the Law, of the slow hardening of his heart in an attempt to stop hurting. 

Tears were making his eyes prickle when he finally stopped for a breath. Alec looked up at the ceiling and blinked hard to keep the tears at bay. When he finally felt like crying was no longer an imminent possibility, Alec’s gaze returned to the students.

The entire class, Nephilim, Seelie, Warlocks, Vampires, and Werewolves all sat motionless as they waited for him to continue, their initial uneasiness at sitting next to one another forgotten. He saw dozens of eyes shining with tears, a few of them with tear tracks on their cheeks. A group of three girls, two Shadowhunters and a Werewolf, held hands. A Seelie student offered a tissue to the Warlock beside them. An older-looking Vampire had his arm around a younger Seelie boy, who clutched the hand of a burly Nephilim. Even the students who had initially curled themselves up in an attempt to avoid touching others had relaxed, their shoulders pressed against those of their peers, knees and elbows resting on their neighbors.

The sight sent a flush of warm hope through him.

* * *

Magnus had released his class fifteen minutes early, so he wandered up the hall towards the auditorium where Alec was teaching. He took a short staircase down to the back door of the auditorium, which he knew opened into a short hallway that led to the right side of the stage. Using a little magic to keep the door from squeaking, he slipped inside and moved to the end of the hall, still out of sight, to wait for Alec to finish.

“…tried. I didn’t realize until I met Magnus,” the mention of his own name piqued the warlock’s interest and he slid closer to the doorway, “just how calloused I’d become. Struggling for so long, being in so much pain – “ he heard Alec’s voice crack, “it hardens your heart. You don’t notice it, because it happens so gradually, because all you want is for the loneliness and the sadness and the shame to go away, so your heart starts to build walls. It starts to protect itself.”

Magnus leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes, his heart aching in his chest. Clearly Alexander’s lecture had taken an unexpected turn, and he wondered what could have happened that would make his normally introverted and intensely private boyfriend share such a vulnerable piece of himself with a roomful of teenagers. 

“I don’t want that to happen to any of you. I don’t want any of you to struggle with even a fraction of what I struggled with at your age. I want you to know –“

Magnus heard Alec’s breath catch and he could picture his love’s eyes: watery and wide, their beautiful blue a deeper and darker shade than usual as he bared his soul to the kids.

“I want you to know, each and every one of you,” the Shadowhunter continued, voice thick, “that there is absolutely nothing wrong with you. I want you to know that you are not a mistake, you are not an aberration, and you are not messed up. You are each beautiful and perfect individuals who have something truly unique to bring to the world.”

Several sniffles were audible from the class.

“Did you ever think, sometimes, that you’d never – that no one would ever…ever love you? If they knew that – if they knew – ”

Magnus didn’t recognize the student’s voice, but he certainly recognized the hesitation and fear.

“About who I really was?” Alec finished gently. “Yeah. For a long, long time I thought that if people, if my family or my friends knew that I was different, that they’d be…” Alec seemed to search for the right word. “…disgusted. Or ashamed. And they would leave. I didn’t want to disappoint them.”

“How did you finally get – I mean, what made you, you know, finally decide to be yourself?”

The question came from another student that Magnus didn’t recognize.

“I met Magnus.” The wistfulness in the Shadowhunter’s voice pulled the warlock forward even more until he was nearly around the corner. “Before him, I’d convinced myself that there was something wrong with me and that no one could ever be interested in me or want to be with me. But he showed me... He showed me how wrong I was.” Alec let out an amused huff. “And I hate being wrong. So I tried to fight it. I pushed him away, I ignored him, I even tried to get married,” he let a second pass before continuing, his voice tinged with mock disgust, “ _to a girl._ ”

The students giggled. They were a bit wavering and uncertain, but obviously grateful for a bit of comic relief. 

“But the biggest motivation was that when I looked in the mirror, I didn’t recognize the man staring back at me. He was angry. And unhappy. A coward. A liar. Things that I never wanted to be.”

“Weren’t you scared?”

“I was absolutely terrified. It was the single most difficult and rewarding thing I’ve ever done. And that includes helping defeat Valentine and Sebastian Morgenstern.”

Magnus decided he needed to see them, see Alec, but didn’t want to interrupt what was clearly a very important heart-to-heart, so he cast an invisibility glamour over himself and slipped around the corner. He let out a small gasp of delighted surprise at the sight.

All of Alec’s students, every single one of them, were focused on their teacher. Not a single kid had their phone out or looked like they were daydreaming. What Magnus found more extraordinary was their comfort at the close proximity of other students. Werewolves and Vampires leaning against each other, holding hands with Seelie, a few of their heads resting on Nephilim or Warlock shoulders. Whatever Alec had been speaking about had resonated with every single one of the children, allowing them a safe space to feel vulnerable, and opening their eyes to the fact that regardless of race or species, they all struggled with the same insecurities.

Magnus was behind Alec, so he couldn’t see the Shadowhunter’s face, but he saw his head turn in the direction of the clock on the back wall and figured Alec was checking the time.

“Class is almost over,” he continued, confirming Magnus’s guess, “and your regular professor will be back next week. But that doesn’t mean that I’m not still here for you. Anybody who wants my number can have it and you can call or text me at any time, day or night. If I can’t pick up my phone, leave me a message and I will call you back. You have my word.”

Magnus smiled warmly and snapped his fingers. Small gift bags appeared in every child’s lap. They were filled with chocolates, and attached to them were tags with Alec’s phone number, Magnus’s phone number, and instructions for sending a fire message, should the more mundane methods of communication fail. 

“Magnus,” Alec breathed, his voice fond as he scanned the room.

Magnus swept off his glamour with a flick of his wrist and all four hundred eyes – well, four hundred and two eyes, since the warlock in the back had an extra set – rested on him.

“Hello, Alexander,” Magnus said, stepping up behind his boyfriend. He leaned over to drop a kiss on his cheek, which elicited a soft chorus of ‘aww’s from audience, and then addressed the group. “You all have both of our numbers, and if you’re out of range of a cell tower, there are also instructions for sending a fire message. But really, where can you go and not get cell service nowadays?”

Alec stood up and Magnus reached for his hand, but the Shadowhunter surprised him by wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him close. Magnus’s arm reflexively settled around Alec’s waist.

“Before I let you go,” Alec said, “I just want you to know why I shared my story with you. I did it because I want you to know that whatever you’re going through, you’re not alone. You’re never alone. No matter how dark it gets, no matter how frightened you are, there’s always hope. Happiness can be found even in the darkest of times; we just have to remember to turn on the light.”

Several students smiled, understanding the reference.

“I told you that ‘Harry Potter’ marathon was a good idea,” Magnus said, looking at Alec.

His boyfriend rolled his eyes, but the effect was negated by the flush on his cheeks and smile on his lips.

Magnus looked back at the students, his voice sobering. “I’ve been around for a long time. A very long time. And to be quite honest, things have changed very little from even my earliest recollections. Prejudice and ignorance are still festering in all corners of the world, people still struggle with acceptance, of themselves and others, and too many of us have not yet overcome our baser instincts for violence in the face of confrontation.” He paused. “And I am still unwelcome in Peru. But that, dear friends, is a story for another time.”

The kids chuckled.

“I have been around to see rise and fall of kingdoms, the birth and death of empires, so believe me when I tell you this: times are changing. Archaic social mores are slowly being replaced with love and tolerance. The policies and laws set forth in the past to separate groups based on skin color, sex, orientation, ancestry… They’re being overturned. Notions of classes and castes of people are disappearing. But the only way that it will continue to happen is if we remain true to who we are, if we refuse to conform to antiquated ideals of gender, or marriage, or self-worth, and we love and support each other, remembering that ultimately, there’s two things we all have in common: we are all human, and we are all the same, in so far as we are all completely and utterly unique. If we remember those, then together we may just be able to bring about a culture where our children will never have to deal with the kind of prejudice and narrow-mindedness that we struggle against every day. We might one day raise children who look in the mirror and smile at who they see reflected back, who fully and enthusiastically embrace their own and others’ individuality, and who judge based only on character and not on characteristics.”

* * *

The bell rang suddenly, making Alec jump, and signaling the end of the day and the end of the week. Magnus’s arm fell from his waist and Alec stepped forward to give one last address as the students began to shift restlessly.

“It’s been an honor to teach all of you this week. I know the last hour was a bit…unconventional, but…” he trailed off, unsure.

One of the older Nephilim students, a barrel chested young man with a serious expression, stood up and met Alec’s eyes. The boy’s arms hung at his sides, his weight balanced on both feet, and for what felt like an interminable amount of time, his deep brown eyes just studied Alec. The older man fought against his instinct to look away or fidget under the scrutiny, and he forced himself to stay still until the boy spoke.

“The honor is ours,” he said finally. “Truly.”

The boy ducked his head in a gesture of deference. Two Seelie girls stood up followed by an incredibly young werewolf boy. 

“Matthew Redlake speaks the truth,” the shorter Seelie murmured, bowing her head.

The other two mirrored her as the green haired student also stood up.

“Thank you,” they said simply before assuming the same submissive position as the others that were standing.

Alec watched, humbled into silence, as the others joined their classmates, and soon he was gazing at the tops of two hundred heads. 

“I – “ Alec had no idea what to say. His throat was tight and he didn’t realize he was crying until he tasted salt in the corner of his mouth. “You’re welcome,” he answered, the words jerky and soft. 

And just like that, the spell was broken. The students shuffled back up the aisles to their seats, gathering books and pens and shoving them into bags and backpacks. There was little conversation as the group filed out of the doors in the back of the room, and after a few minutes, the auditorium was empty except for him and Magnus. When he turned to look at Magnus, the warlock stepped forward, cupped Alec’s face in his gentle hands, and kissed him.

* * *

“Do you really think that things are changing?” Alec asked softly when they parted.

Magnus gave him a tender smile and then looked back out over the empty room where a few minutes before, a group of two hundred young adults, whose ancestors had been shedding each others’ blood for centuries, had moved an experienced Shadowhunter and respected Clave member to tears with their simple, united gesture of gratitude.

“I do,” he said. “I truly do.”

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to add a quick thank-you for all the kind words I've received in the comments and all the positive feedback from people leaving kudos and bookmarking this piece. I'm so glad that it's resonated so well and it's been received so warmly.
> 
> I'll admit, I was a little apprehensive about putting it out there, especially since I'm a (mostly) straight cis female, whose personal experience with discrimination of any sort has been pretty limited. I also felt kind of like an impostor, writing and posting something that deals with such a sensitive topic when I didn't really belong to the affected minority groups. But I thought back to the poem written by Martin Niemöller that I heard in middle school, when we were learning about the Holocaust.
>
>> First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out—  
> Because I was not a Socialist.
>> 
>> Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out—  
> Because I was not a Trade Unionist.
>> 
>> Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—  
> Because I was not a Jew.
>> 
>> Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.
> 
>   
> It reminded me that standing up and speaking out, despite feeling bumbling or somewhat ignorant, is _always_ better than remaining silent or un-involved, even if you're not directly affected by the indecencies being perpetrated. So here it is.
> 
> Thanks again, everyone, for your support. It truly warms my heart. 
> 
> <3


End file.
